


you take my self - you take my self-control

by lalejandra



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Aftercare, Dominance, Humiliation, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Submission, role play, there is a safeword but it is not used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:53:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra
Summary: Brendon & Spencer role play a non-consensual situation within the framework of a SSC long term relationship.
Relationships: Spencer Smith/Brendon Urie
Kudos: 12





	you take my self - you take my self-control

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains characters roleplaying a noncon scenario, someone saying "stop" but not meaning it, fantasies about bdsm/sadism, rope bondage, verbal humiliation, unsafe sex, barebacking, blowjobs, and sort of schmoopy aftercare.
> 
> Beta by the incomparable Krista.

  


"No --" Brendon pushes him away, hard enough that Spencer bangs into the wall. He goes with it, lets himself bang harder than he would've if he'd caught himself, lets his head bang back, too. Then he steps forward, shoves Brendon toward the stairs, and Brendon falls onto them.

"I don't want this!" yells Brendon. "You can't make me --"

"I think you're a liar," says Spencer. He climbs the stairs and grabs Brendon's wrists. There's a brief moment during which he wishes that they'd turned on the lights or that they could've left the shades up. He wants to see everything in Brendon's eyes -- the fear _and_ the excitement.

"I think you're a liar," repeats Spencer as he starts to drag Brendon up the stairs by his wrists. Well, by his forearms, anyway, up the board he'd secured to the middle of the stairs so Brendon would slide up easily instead of bumping up each stair and getting bruised. "I think you want this. I've seen how you've been looking at me, Bren. In the showers. On the bus. I've been watching you, and you _want this."_

"I don't," Brendon says, trying to catch his breath. "Spencer, oh, god, Spencer, please don't do this, I'm not -- I'm not gay, I'm not -- I wasn't looking, I swear, I wasn't looking."

When they get to the top of the stairs, Brendon starts kicking and grappling, twisting around the way they'd practiced, from his stomach instead of his shoulders so that his wrists don't get hurt.

"Brendon, come on," says Spencer, as coldly as he can. He drags Brendon down the hall and into the guest room -- Brendon had wanted to use their usual play space, or one of their bedrooms, but it was the one thing Spencer had been really firm on. If the scene goes bad, if Brendon has to safeword -- if _Spencer_ has to safeword -- then he doesn't want a place where they are every day to… to… to, like, hold onto that, to have that memory.

If it goes well, if it works, maybe they'll do it again in a different room.

"Brendon," says Spencer, panting a little as he lifts Brendon up and -- and _throws him_ onto the bed. "Brendon, you know what happens to people who are fucking teases? You know what happens when you look and look and then say, oh, no, I don't want to touch?"

Spencer crawls up the bed, kneeing Brendon's thighs, leaning over his chest, holding Brendon's forearms tightly. There's rope around the headboard of the bed, and Spencer grabs it, does a quick two-column tie around Brendon's wrists. As he slips a finger in to make sure the rope isn't too tight, he puts his face right up against Brendon's and whispers in his ear.

"I know you think you're a good boy, Brendon. I know you think you good boys don't feel this way. But I know you. I know you want this."

Brendon is crying, tears dripping down his face and into his hair. "Please, Spence," he chokes. "Please don't do this. I promise, I'll do anything -- I'll do your laundry or soundcheck your drums, or -- or -- I'll clean the house, I'll buy you those new sneakers, please, Spence, please, I thought we were friends --"

"You sound pathetic," Spencer snarls into Brendon's ear. He licks the track of tears, salty and weird tasting, then licks down Brendon's neck, and sinks his teeth into the hollow of Brendon's throat. "Just shut up, Bren. You're such a pathetic child, only pretending to be an adult.."

Spencer stops leaning on Brendon's thighs and instead slips between them and kicks his legs apart. Brendon bucks up, twists, tries to get free, tries to throw Spencer off just using his hips and stomach. He's so hard -- he can pretend he doesn't want this, he can beg Spencer to stop, and it just makes him harder. And… it's kind of a relief to feel, because… Spencer wants to give this to Brendon, wants Brendon to have what he wants, but also doesn't want to really hurt or upset Brendon. He does it enough accidentally -- he doesn't want to make Brendon cry on purpose.

Except for with a whip. Or a scalpel. Or… well, or on purpose.

He grinds down against Brendon's erection, lets Brendon's jeans dig into Spencer's sweatpants, into his cock. He doesn't get off on pain the way Brendon does, but he likes it okay, it's not a turnoff.

Brendon's panting brings him back into the scene, reminds him of what they're supposed to be doing.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Brendon, and you're gonna like it. How do you think you're going to feel then, huh? Dirty? Disgusting? Ashamed?" taunts Spencer. He sits back on Brendon's legs, watching him twist and buck, watching his shirt ride up. It's fucking hot, the way Brendon's covered in sweat, the way his chest is heaving. Spencer puts a hand down on the middle of Brendon's chest and feels his heart pound. With his other hand, he pushes his sweatpants down, pulls out his cock.

"Please no, please no, please -- no -- no --" Brendon's chanting is cut off when Spencer inches forward until his dick is in Brendon's mouth.

"Suck it," growls Spencer. "Suck my fucking cock, Brendon. I'm going to shove it down your goddamn throat. I'm gonna take a picture and put it on the internet so everyone can see what a fucking whore you are, so that everyone can see that every time you look, this is what you're thinking about." And Brendon's mouth opens wider, like he can't stop himself, so Spencer croons, "That's right, I know you love it. It's okay, you know." Spencer smoothes Brendon's hair with one hand, and holds his dick tightly with the other. He pulls it out of Brendon's mouth and Brendon takes a long, gasping breath.

Spencer squeezes Brendon's chest tightly with his knees and settles deeper into Brendon's armpits, rubs his cock on Brendon's face.

"Say you love it," he demands, rubbing his cock on Brendon's cheek.

"Spencer," moans Brendon, shaking his head. "Spencer, please, you can still stop --"

"Say you want to suck my dick," Spencer interrupts. "Say you fucking love it. Say you're a goddam slut for my cock, Brendon. Say this is everything you've been wanting since the first time you ever saw me. You watched me that first practice. You sat next to me in my car in that traffic jam and all you wanted was to suck my cock, and we both know it."

Brendon turns his head away and closes his eyes, and Spencer moves his dick, hits Brendon on the face with it, and then hits him again. His dick is wet -- precome, Brendon's spit. It makes a wet, slapping sound.

"Brendon," Spencer says. He drags his dick along Brendon's cheek until he gets to Brendon's mouth, Brendon's fucking pink lips, red tongue, open mouth, covered teeth.

"Spencer," Brendon moans around Spencer's dick, and that definitely broke scene, because Brendon doesn't sound sad or afraid -- he sounds into it. Spencer knows that moan, and that is not a "please stop" moan.

Spencer is pretty sure he just felt his dick get harder.

He shoves his cock deeper into Brendon's mouth and listens to Brendon choke, feels Brendon's throat close around him, watches Brendon's face get red. He counts -- ten, fifteen, twenty -- and then pulls out, lets Brendon gasp for breath, struggle against the bonds.

"You love this," Spencer tells him, and pushes his cock into Brendon's mouth again, down his throat, but for a fifteen count this time, and when he pulls out, Brendon's throat is red, his eyes tearing even more, genuine, real tears this time, and Spencer's dick is covered in saliva, is wet, slippery.

"Please," moans Brendon, still trying to stay in character, scared and young, being bullied and forced by a mean Spencer. It's getting them both off, but they can't hide that enough to keep in the scene. They’re just too fucking into it. Spencer strokes his dick and watch Brendon twist, leans back, moves back, gives Brendon the friction, the pressure he needs, lets Brendon grind his dick into Spencer's ass.

He leans down and captures Brendon's mouth, kisses him gently. "Brendon, I know you want it. It's okay to want me. We don't have to tell anyone, it can be our secret. You just have to ask for it -- you just have to beg me for it. I'll give you anything you want, but you have to beg me for it."

Spencer rubs his dick against the bare skin of Brendon's stomach, the sparse hair making for weird friction.

"Spencer, please don't," says Brendon. His voice sounds wrecked. "You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone --"

"Just say yes," Spencer coaxes, licking Brendon's lower lip, sucking on his upper lip.

"I --"

They worked out two different ways it could go. Brendon could keep resisting and Spencer could fuck him anyway, rip his jeans off and flip him over. Or Spencer could cajole him into it, get him to admit he wants it. They've had scenes like this before, other kinds, where they work out a bunch of ways it can go beforehand, so that if they're in the middle and it feels weird, they can change direction without tapping out. It's not how people are "supposed" to do things like this, Spencer knows -- but it works for them.

Spencer's going to give it another couple of seconds, and then go do Option A -- ripping off Brendon's jeans and fucking him, forcing him to come, making him lick the come off Spencer's hand.

But then Brendon goes with Option B, which was Spencer's preference anyway.

"I want it," Brendon confesses, and his voice breaks, like he really does feel ashamed. "I want you, I've always wanted you, Spence, I want this --"

"Say it," Spencer orders, moving his hand to unbutton Brendon's jeans. Brendon's grip tightens visibly on the ropes binding his wrists, holding him to the bed frame.

"Spencer, please," begs Brendon. "Please, I want it, please fuck me, please give it to me -- please -- please -- I need it, you're right, I've always needed it, I look at you and want you to --"

"I knew it," Spencer says, and leans down as he pulls down Brendon's jeans. Brendon helps him, lifting his hips. Spencer's careful of his dick, because he's so hard, and then he rubs their dicks together, grinds his hips down and lets Brendon grind his hips up.

"I want it," sobs Brendon, "oh, god, Spencer, I want this, please, you have to fuck me, you have to -- you have to make me like it, I know you can make me like it, put your cock in me --"

"You're gonna take it so good, Bren --" Spencer knows Brendon slicked himself up before this, but he slides two fingers in anyway, feeling how stretched Brendon is. "You're so loose, I bet you fuck yourself with your fingers every night pretending it's my dick."

"I do, I do," Brendon admits breathlessly, his hips rocking into Spencer's fingers. "I do, Spencer, I used four fingers last night, and I thought about you, I wanted you to hold me down, I wanted -- I wanted you to make me like it, to do this, to fuck me."

"Yeah, I knew it," Spencer says, twisting his fingers, deliberately avoiding Brendon's prostate. "I knew you were thinking about me, making noise in your bunk at night. You think you're quiet? I hear you every -- night -- I --" He shoves in a third finger and Brendon whines, high and thin.

Spencer moves back even further, kneels between Brendon's legs, and lifts him up, creeping forward so Brendon's ass is propped on Spencer's knees, getting his hands under Brendon's ass, lifting him higher.

He rubs his dick against Brendon's hole and listens to Brendon whine. He can't catch his breath, can't do anything but rub against Brendon.

"Please," Brendon begs, "please, Spencer, please, I'll be good, I'll do anything, I'll do whatever you want, just fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me --"

Spencer pushes in as slowly as he can, hissing through his teeth at how tight and hot Brendon is, letting his fingers dig into Brendon's skin, Brendon's hips, Brendon's pale skin that marks up so easily and prettily.

Brendon wails as Spencer bottoms out, and Spencer knows the scene is over, that they're just Brendon and Spencer now, fucking their damn brains out on a pile of pillows and old blankets.

"I love you," Spencer says, but his voice isn't working, his chest is all tight, he's choked up -- all he can do is move his hips, make Brendon cry every time he shoves in and gasp when he pulls out. The lube is thinning out, the friction is unbearable, and Spencer digs his fingers into Brendon's hips harder. He'll leave fingerprint bruises, press on them all night and all day tomorrow, make Brendon gasp and moan until he's begging for it again. They've been on a roll for weeks, lots of pain, lots of playing, lots of Spencer making Brendon beg and crawl. Lots of pulling down the shades and feeding Brendon from his fingers, petting him and bruising him and choking him.

Spencer shivers and comes silently. Brendon is still hard, still gasping when Spencer pulls out. Spencer's dick almost hurts, it's so sensitive, but he wants to -- he wants to keep fucking Brendon, wants to grind down against him, wants to rock against him until he comes all over Spencer's skin, and then -- and then he wants Brendon to lick his come off Spencer's stomach.

And then he wants to do it again.

As he watches, Brendon shivers, and come begins to drip out of him.

"Please, Spencer," he says on a gasp, and Spencer runs a finger down his dick, feeling how hard Brendon is, how much he wants it.

"You're such a slut," Spencer says, and he knows he can't keep the affection out of his voice, hope it doesn't ruin everything for Brendon. "I always knew it, Bren. I always knew you just needed to be fucked."

"I did," Brendon says, nodding his head, pulling against the rope. He sounds frantic, and Spencer loves it, wishes he was still sixteen so he could get hard again right now, fuck Brendon again right now. Next time, he thinks, he'll have to stock the room with toys -- if he had a dildo right now, he could shove it into Brendon, using his own come as lube, and make Brendon take it. Put Brendon in a cock ring -- or a cage, Spencer's been looking at them online and this is the perfect reason to buy one. Put Brendon in a cage, and fuck him until he's stretched and raw, and then grab one of their toys and do it again -- and again, and again, and again, maybe even with his fist, with two dildos --

Spencer tunes back in to Brendon's begging, and slides three fingers through the come, into Brendon, letting his thumb rub the rim outside.

"Tell me what a slut you are," Spencer demands in a low voice. His chest hurts. "Tell me how bad you want it."

"I'm a slut," says Brendon obediently, punctuating it with a moan. "I'm a slut, oh, god, Spencer, please, I'm such a slut, I keep looking at you, I just want it all the time, I want you to fuck me all the time, I always wished you just -- you'd just grab me and -- fuck --" His voice falters when Spencer adds a fourth finger, curling his pinky finger in toward his palm, then stretching when they're inside Brendon.

"I knew you wanted it, I always knew it."

"Please, I need --" Brendon chokes, the muscles in his thighs going rigid as Spencer presses on his rim and scratches his cock at the same time, and he comes all over Spencer's hand, his own stomach, grunting.

Spencer leans down and licks, licks Brendon's cock, takes the whole thing in his mouth and sucks, and Brendon shivers and cries out, his hips jerking wildly. "No, no, stop!" he says. "Spencer, please, stop -- stop -- stop --"

Spencer keeps sucking, twisting his fingers, feeling Brendon shiver, clench, his muscles spasm, tasting the salt of his come, his sweat, feeling the velvety skin of Brendon's cock scrape over his tongue. He breathes in through his nose, smelling Brendon, smelling himself, and twists his hand again, pressing against Brendon's prostate until Brendon's crying, wordless sobs.

When he finally pulls away -- he hasn't had enough, he never gets enough -- Brendon's turned his head so his mouth is pressed against one of his biceps. Spencer crawls up his body and kisses him, and Brendon turns his head.

"Don't," he whispers, and Spencer has a moment of panic -- until he realizes. They never tapped out of the scene. Brendon's still in it, still playing along.

Spencer tries to remember what he's supposed to do now.

"Come on, Bren, you know you wanted it. I didn't do anything you didn't love."

"I didn't," Brendon chokes out. "Spencer, I didn't, I just didn't want you to hurt me. I didn't want --"

"Liar," says Spencer, and laughs a little. He licks Brendon's arm where Brendon's teeth left an impression. "You loved it, and you'll love it next time."

"No, Spencer, no, isn't there --"

"You'll love it next time," whispers Spencer, and he bites Brendon's neck, sucks a mark onto it, twists Brendon's nipple and grinds their bare, soft dicks together. "You love feeling my come drip out of you, you'll love seeing the bruises in the mirror. I know you, Brendon, I know you're a slut, I know you can't get enough --"

"No," moans Brendon.

"Yes." Spencer licks the hollow of Brendon's throat, the place where he'd bitten the first time, and moves away. "I'm gonna cut you free. I don't think you'll tell anyone about this, right, Bren? Wouldn't want anyone else to know what a slut you are."

"I'm not," says Brendon, his voice barely there. "I'm not."

"You are," says Spencer. He pulls up his sweatpants, wincing a little as they scrape his dick, and reaches to the bedside table for the shears he'd tucked there earlier. He cuts through the rope carefully and quickly, not letting himself take the time to press against the red marks it has left on Brendon's wrists.

Brendon moves a little and Spencer leans down again, whispering in his ear, "See you soon, slut."

Then he leaves the room, just like they'd originally planned, and leans against the hallway wall, counts to sixty, takes deep breaths. Then he goes to their play room and grabs the pile of stuff he'd made earlier -- a soft towel, a bottle of water, a damp washcloth. Another count to sixty and he goes back into the room.

"Hey," he says, and waits for Brendon's response. Brendon is still lying with his arms above his head, legs splayed, head turned to the side.

"Hey," Brendon says, and his voice isn't super steady, but it's not totally broken either.

"You okay?" Spencer climbs onto the bed and drapes the towel over Brendon, starts to lower his arms, gently rubbing his shoulders.

"Yeeeeah…" Brendon still doesn't look at him, just lets Spencer move his limbs around like a doll. "I… It was okay?"

"I'm glad you went the other way, with the… you know…" Spencer trails off and rubs Brendon's other shoulder, then tucks his arm under the towel. "I thought I would be okay doing it, but I don't know. I don't know, it felt weird and bad in the moment."

"I liked where we took it." Brendon shuts his eyes. "I'm not freaking out, relax."

"I can't relax until you --" Spencer breaks off and presses his lips together. "I'll be okay."

"Hey, Spencer…" Brendon bites his lip, but his eyes don't open and he doesn't look at Spencer, and Spencer is a little worried that he really is going to freak the fuck out. Him. Not Brendon, who seems to be totally okay.

Spencer is kind of not okay. He's okay with hitting Brendon, drawing blood, leading him around on a leash. He's okay with ordering Brendon around, and slapping his face.

He doesn't know why this feels so different. Maybe because Brendon won't look at him. He doesn't ever want Brendon to think that Spencer really believes those things, really believes that Brendon is dirty or gross or a slut in some kind of bad, shameful way instead of the fun way.

Brendon's legs are apart under the towel. Spencer lifts it a little and dabs gently with the washcloth. He wants to lick into Brendon and eat his come out of Brendon's ass, but he just wipes, wipes down Brendon's cock, tosses the washcloth on the floor.

"Spencer?" says Brendon, and he turns a little, finally opens his eyes. There are tear tracks on his face, and his eyes are rimmed in red. "I liked it. But -- can you -- can you just hold me for a second? I know it's not how we --"

"Fuck, of course. Brendon, how we do it is however we want," says Spencer, and he crawls up, curls up around Brendon, throws an arm over his stomach.

"I love you," says Brendon. He wriggles until Spencer loosens his grip, then turns so they are face to face. He presses into Spencer, slides his arm around Spencer, and hides his face in Spencer's throat. "I love you," he repeats against Spencer's skin.

"I love you, too," Spencer says, and holds him tightly.

  



End file.
